Deviation

Afternoons spent in Advanced Drawing class always seemed to go by ever so slowly. If Miss Arleen wasn’t so eccentric when she talked, I was sure I’d be able to hear the soft ticking of the clock and the light snores of the other seniors in the classroom. Every day I spent in this classroom made me kick myself for deciding to keep all the pointless classes I had to take until my senior year. School just dragged on.

There was ten minutes until the bell. I was already done with the assignment Miss Arleen had given to us; take a famous piece of artwork and make it your own. I had taken the Mona Lisa and given her a real smile. I learned early on that I could half-ass all my work in this class and still pull off an A. Miss Arleen was all about giving a grade based on trying hard; I guess I had enough talent to mask my bullshit as effort.

I was staring at the clock, my hand pressed against my cheek, when my phone vibrated from my pocket. My eyes wandered to Miss Arleen’s desk; she was typing away at her computer, completely unaware of her lifeless class. Barely caring if I got caught, I took my cell phone out and checked the text message behind my bag.

“Surprises are great, aren’t they?”

I smiled. He never started a conversation with a simple hello. There always had to be a reason to the beginning of a conversation or else it would just fall flat, he had explained one day. And he was never one to mess around. It was always straight to the point. And the point never failed to interest me in some way.

“I guess so. It really depends on what they are.”

Five minutes left of absolute torture before the bell to lunch rang. That was my time of escape. I didn’t have a last period, so I always stalked out of the building and jumped into my car, finally able to get away from what I considered hell.

“Something tells me you’re going to like this.”

I couldn’t help it; from behind my bag, a suspicious smile appeared on my face. Ever since the party, after admitting his burning curiosity about me, John had taken more than enough time out of his busy schedule to get to know me better. Instead of band practice on certain days, he’d skip out, fake a headache and come by my place. Over a class he hated, he’d invite me for coffee. Calling in sick to work, he’d ask me to go over to his house. And I didn’t mind one bit.

“What do you have up your sleeve this time, O’Callaghan?”

There was something about John. I couldn’t even pin point what it was. I’d grown so accustomed to his awkward way of speaking; the way he formally spoke some days and others, his language would be laced with vulgar words and too many ‘yo’s’ to count. I loved the way he hugged me when we saying goodbye after spending hours with each other. His hands would slide from my hips to the small of my back before picking me up and swinging me around. But those were just minor things that made me so infatuated with the idea of being around John at all times.

“You’ll see. Meet me at Top of the World after your class.”

The bell rang loudly, pulling me out of my dreamy faze. I looked around to see kids grabbing their bags and binders as quickly as possible. Miss Arleen was saying goodbye to anyone who awkwardly met her stare. I texted a quick okay to John before grabbing my own things and walking out the door. Bodies of other high school kids swallowed me whole before I finally was able to escape to the senior parking lot. Grabbing the keys from out of my pocket, anticipation for whatever John had planned got to me and I got into my car and turned the key in the ignition as quickly as possible. It wasn’t long before I was on the road to Top of the World.

And even though I was driving, my mind still wandered back to the lanky boy I was just about to see. Everything about him made me so excited; his words, his body language, his stare. But there were moments I couldn’t explain, moments that probably shouldn’t happen between us. Like when a comfortable silence would rise from between us; John had the tendency to look straight into my eyes with a small smirk. It made me feel a little self-conscious, but I couldn’t look away. His green eyes would send me into a trance until he reached over and brushed my bangs out of my eyes and tucked them behind my ear.

Or sometimes when I went off into a ramble, John would watch me talk with a smile on his face. His eyes would take in everything about me; I could feel it, those breathtaking green eyes wandering from my feet all the way up to my eyes. But I didn’t care. I should have cared; I should have felt like a piece of meat to this horny college boy. But I didn’t. I felt completely comfortable, if not flattered. Feelings that should have never existed began to rise.

As I pulled up to the curb next to the hill to Top of the World, I felt my heartbeat begin to race. This nervous energy would have shocked me if it had not been that I had grown used to it from all the times before, when I was about to see John. I turned off my black Jetta, slithered out of the seat and closed the door behind me. My eyes wandered for John’s familiar old, black BMW, but it was no where in sight. Reluctantly, I made my way up the steep hill.

When I got to the top, no one was around. Shrubs and trees were all I saw. I looked over the city as the wind began to pick up. Fall had slowly turned into winter and the need for a coat over a light cardigan became more prominent to me. I crossed my arms over my chest, rocking back and forth, waiting for John’s arrival.

My legs were just beginning to get restless when I heard the crunch of twigs and leaves from behind me. As I turned around, John stepped onto the flat land of Top of the World. He had a picnic basket in one hand and a blanket in the other. I laughed as he skipped towards me in feminine fashion.

“What is all this?” I questioned, looking at the brown basket and the red blanket. It was so cliché and trite, I could have died right then with the silly smile that was shining on my face. John looked down at the items too and chuckled to himself.

“I was making us a lovely lunch and I actually just planned to pack them in two separate brown bags. But my mom walked into the kitchen and questioned me endlessly. She then forced me to leave the kitchen and get ready. When I came back downstairs, this is what was sitting on the kitchen table,” John explained, setting the basket down and panning out the blanket.

“That’s adorable,” I giggled as he struggled to make all four corners flat with the wind fighting him. I helped him before sitting crossed legged on the blanket and bringing the basket in between us. John sat down as well, laying his long body across the small square of red material.

“Yeah, especially when she pushed me over and over to tell her who the ‘special lady’ was,” He muttered, a smirk spread across his face as he opened the basket and pulled out container after container.

I watched him as his smirk turned into a full grown smile. I could feel another wide smile on my face. He didn’t look me in the eyes as I stared down at him, expecting him to explain further. But he didn’t, just kept pulling goodies out of the brown basket. So I took it upon myself to ask, “Excuse me? Special lady?”

“Yeah. She was saying how I wouldn’t waste my time making food for a girl and planning a picnic unless she meant something to me,” He mumbled under his breath as he took the final things out of the basket and laid them out in front of me. I was too distracted to notice what foods his mom had packed. “She wouldn’t let me out of the house until I promised to bring you to a family dinner of some sort.”

“That’s hilarious,” I laughed. He laughed along with me for a moment before it died out and silence washed upon us. I stared at the containers before commenting, “I’m glad your mom thinks I’m more important to you than I am.”

I was waiting for some kind of response like, ‘I know, right?’ Or just a simple, ‘Seriously.’ But they never came. John was picking at a piece of thread from the blanket, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I waited for him to say something or begin shoveling food onto his plate. And just when I was about to ask him what was wrong, he looked up at me and said, “I think she knows exactly what she’s talking about.”

I could feel my expressions turn quickly as I gazed right into those green orbs. I was confused, excited and then absolutely shocked. I wasn’t even sure what he was saying as I jumped to conclusions and hoped for the best. My hands started sweating but I couldn’t respond. I just looked at him, unable to do anything.

“Sorry, that was awkward,” John quickly covered up, his words rushing together as he attempted to open the container lids. He sat upright and shook his head, “Ignore what I just said. I – That was just – I don’t even know.”

“John, are you trying to tell me something?” I inquired softly, watching his long fingers struggle to open a container filled with strawberries. In all the chaos of emotions and unshared thoughts, I wondered about the fruit and how fresh they really were. It was nearing winter; strawberries weren’t in season, were they? When the blue lid finally popped off, a sigh escaped from between John’s pink lips. He set down the fruit and shrugged.

“I guess,” He confessed, letting one of his hands rub the back of his neck. I watched him as he thought of words to help me understand exactly what he meant, “You interest me, Karma. I mean, you’re young but so far advanced beyond your years. I can actually keep a conversation going with you and you’re able to make me laugh and think of things in new ways. I – I guess I’m just awe struck by you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Wasn’t this what I was waiting for? A reason for all the romanticized moments that I couldn’t ever stop thinking about? Shouldn’t I have words stored up inside to share my own feelings? Instead, I looked down at the plate in front of me and searched for answers.

“I’m not forcing you into anything,” He murmured shyly after a pregnant pause. I could hear his fingers picking away at the paper plate. “Don’t think of my pathetic revelation as a plead for affection. You’re allowed to feel the way you do.”

His nervous banter made me slightly smile. His words, meant to be so comforting, fumbled and ruined, were absolutely adorable. In the moment, it seemed right; the start to something fresh and new, the start to something I wanted too. My hand slid to the back of his neck and I could feel the moment of shock run through his body. Pulling his head down, our lips collided in a mess. Over a basket and a tub of strawberries, we kissed with the wind blowing our hair into our closed eyes. A tingling sensation rushed through my body as his hand found my jaw line and his fingers grazed the skin gently.

When we pulled away, a smile as wide and goofy as mine was sitting upon John’s face. I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks, tinting them with a baby pink as I looked down and right into the debatable cradle of questionable fruit. Picking up a strawberry, I held it up between us and furrowed my brow, staring straight at it, “Are strawberries even in season?”